<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Snippets of Dysfunctionalities by crystalsnowflakes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030579">Snippets of Dysfunctionalities</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalsnowflakes/pseuds/crystalsnowflakes'>crystalsnowflakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Romance, Snippets</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:01:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalsnowflakes/pseuds/crystalsnowflakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets featuring a certain ninja-brat and a redheaded turkey. Reffie.</p><p>1 - Toxicity</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Yuffie Kisaragi/Reno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Snippets of Dysfunctionalities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout this again.”  Reno’s hands grip together tightly, the shaking barely visible against his knees.  As he looks up from his seemingly relaxed position on the couch, she realizes he’s trying desperately to appear nonchalant, composed, unflappable.</p><p>It’s all a carefully crafted façade, and she knows better; she <em> knows </em>she should back away and let him cool off.</p><p>But Yuffie does what she does best—she pushes and prods because he’s <em> wrong </em> and <em> dumb </em> and why can’t he just <em> understand </em> things from her perspective?  A small part of her brain tells her that she’s about to cross a line that she shouldn't cross—doesn't want to cross.  And it would be <em> so much easier </em>if she just sucks up her pride and apologizes.</p><p>But, why should she say sorry if he’s the one throwing a tantrum like a child?!</p><p>Instead, she crosses her arms and taps her bare feet against the carpet angrily, soundlessly.  “You aren’t even <em> listening—” </em></p><p>“Don’t you fuckin’ <em> dare—” </em> he snaps, snarling, teeth baring and eyes flashing.</p><p>If she’s honest with herself, she doesn’t even know what started the argument in the first place.  What she <em> does </em> feel, however, is a small sense of petty satisfaction at being able to rile him up—at being able to get under his skin.  To her, it means that she <em> still </em> means something to him, because not many people would be able to do what she just did.</p><p>“Well, you aren’t!” she retorts as her fingernails dig painfully into her own flesh.  Her heart thunders in her ears, and her anger rises.  She hates the way her eyes fill with tears of rage.  Angrily, she wipes them away with the back of her hand before drying her hand on the back of her shorts.  Her eyes burn, her chest chenches, and all she wants to do is shake his shoulders until he <em> fucking listens. </em></p><p>He’s glaring at her like he wants to murder her, and she’s a little surprised he hasn’t stomped over like the child he’s behaving like.</p><p>“Because you’re bein’ fuckin’ difficult!” he explodes as he finally stands up.</p><p><em> “ME?” </em> she screeches, looking up at his towering figure.  <em> “I’m </em> being difficult?  Are you—”</p><p>“For <em> fuck’s </em>sake, just drop it and—”</p><p>“Drop it?” she asks, livid.  “Holy <em> shit. </em>  Every time I call you out on your shit, you tell me to—”</p><p><em> “Drop it.” </em>   There’s a murderous scowl on his face, and she’s ready to fight tooth and nail because <em> she’s not wrong. </em></p><p>But there’s another part of her brain that asks—why?</p><p>Why <em> does </em>she care?</p><p>It’s midnight and she’s exhausted and she has to wake up in less than five hours for work and all she wants is sleep and for him to stop being such a <em> stubborn piece of shit. </em>  She stares at him in bewildered astonishment for a few moments because all he does is get mad when she’s trying to have an honest conversation with him.  He gets triggered whenever she calls him out on his shit even though he’s got more issues than all the tabloid magazines put together. </p><p>Annoyed, she throws her arms in the air because she is <em> done, </em> and she is <em> sick and tired </em> of this shit— <em> his </em> shit <em> . </em></p><p>She turns around without another word and slams the bedroom door—his bedroom door—behind her.  With tears blinding her eyes, she marches towards her knapsack to throw as many of her belongings as she can in the bag.  She doesn’t want to stay anymore and she’s just so <em> tired </em> of walking on eggshells and tiptoeing around to avoid his never-ending tantrums.</p><p>Her shirts and shorts get shoved into the bag, and all she knows is that she’s <em> mad and angry, </em> and why the hell is he <em> such </em> an asshole?</p><p>She yanks the bedroom door open with a bang, ready to walk out of his life and never come back.</p><p>In a moment of weakness, she glances over to him as the moonlight shines against his still figure, illuminating his bright hair and pale skin.  He’s hunched over on the couch with his head in his hands, and she can see the imperceptible trembling of his shoulders.</p><p>Her heart stops and she wonders for a brief moment if he’s crying.  And then she wants to laugh because she remembers <em> who </em> he is.</p><p>But she can’t stop herself from worrying.</p><p>With a small sigh, her bag falls from her grip and hits the carpet with a quiet thud.</p><p>He looks up.  There’s a small frown on his face still, but the blazing rage from earlier is gone, replaced by the briefest flicker of regret.  She feels the smallest bit of relief as her own anger sizzles away.</p><p>Her steps are uncertain as she shuffles closer, and their gazes lock, neither looking away.</p><p>His head lifts from his hands when she’s close enough; he grabs her wrist and pulls her up onto his lap until she’s straddling him.</p><p>It’s not until his fingers are brushing away the tears on her face that she remembers she was crying.</p><p>“Stay,” he murmurs.  His voice is raspy and hoarse, and she feels her heart flutter.</p><p>Closing her eyes, she wraps her arms around him as she rests her chin on his shoulder.  She breathes in his comforting scent—whiskey, cigarettes and mint—as the familiar warmth of his body embraces her.</p><p>And she knows he needs her as much as she needs him.</p><p>“Can’t get rid of me so easily, ya know?” she whispers as she musters a small, teasing grin.</p><p>His grip on her tightens; her chest lurches.</p><p>And for now, it’s enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, regarding the multi-chaptered fic I had planned to upload this week… I uploaded it earlier today, but something about it bugged me, so I took it off.  I think I’m going to have to do a fourth rewrite of Chapter 1 (please help me).  Sorry!</p><p>In the meantime, please enjoy a small drabble idea that turned into almost a thousand words. :)  </p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>